Always under the stars but never thinking about them, unless you count the way the blinking light on the phone lights up my whole room but mostly by heart when I somehow cross your star struck mind. 

They say you’re into me but the only thing I’ve ever been into is trouble, and not the kind where you suffer a sentence but the kind where you write a thousand sentences that aren’t quite right and the ache never even dulls, un-phased like the perpetual new moon of my favorite hiding place, the one where I always I hope you’ll find me when you’re too busy finding everything else.

I’ve never been a runner except that one time in middle school but I think I’d enjoy the chase, if I only knew what I was chasing. 

You shift shapes like the clouds, and though you’re pretty to look at you scare the hell out of me and take away all my fun with anxiety and worry and electricity coursing through my veins, and somehow through all of that I think I might love you.